Mycroft's Silver Haired Savior
by InvisibleBlade
Summary: A Merm!lock Mystrade fan fiction. Rated M for some dark themes. In which Greg is a merman and Mycroft needs saving from himself.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own**

**A/N: A Mystrade Merm!Lock fan fiction for you all. Enjoy. Reviews are as always much appreciated.**

**Warning : Suicide attempt, self hating, depression. This fic does get fluffier! So hold on tight!**

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Mycroft stared down at blue gush of water beneath the boat. The light reflecting off of the surface of the water almost looked like an invitation. It was one that he was happily going to accept. The sound of running water was drowned out by the sound of the blood inside his head pounding against his ear drums. His heart was beating so fast that he was almost certain that the other passengers would be able to hear it, a glance backwards showed him that it's all in his head. They're all so stupid, Mycroft thought bitterly as he turned his eyes back to the deep blue water once more. He found himself wondering what it was going to feel like. Did it hurt? Was it a painful process? Drowning. How fast would the water fill up his lungs? Was it going to be a graceful death? Would he glide through the icy cold waters like a pebble or sink like a stone? Would everything just stop? Or was it going to take a while for the sea to claim him as its victim.

He closed his eyes and allowed the sea breeze to ruffle his auburn hair. Today was his 21st birthday. Today was the day that he had chosen to die. He sucked in a deep lungful of the air swirling past him, revelling in the ability to be able to breathe without a struggle. It would be taken from him the moment he hit the water. He liked breathing. Unlike his brother he did not find it boring. You see, Mycroft Holmes didn't want to die. The mere thought of death scared him witless, not that he would ever admit to anyone that he was scared of anything. Perhaps that's what he was doing up here on the top deck, preparing to end his pointless life. He was fearful, of everything. Emotions. Feelings. Sentiment. It made him feel physically sick. He just couldn't understand it. Why did people care so much? Caring wasn't an advantage. Not from his experience anyway. He'd cared for his mother and in turn she had drank herself to death, leaving Mycroft to be his baby brother's guardian. And of course he had cared for his father, on some sort of level. He had repaid him with fists flying at him on a daily basis. Eventually his father had left them alone. Mycroft hadn't questioned where he'd gone. He was just grateful that the beatings had stopped. He cared for his little brother and worried about him, constantly. Yet that hadn't stopped Sherlock from going down the path of drugs and nearly overdosing, at such an early age too. Mycroft hated caring with a passion, that being the reason he took the career path in the government. You were expected not to care in such a job, you were anticipated to be cold and methodical. Emotion simply didn't come into the equation when dealing with world crises. Yet that didn't deter him from caring for his brother. And where did caring for his brother get him exactly? Nowhere? Sherlock would usually spit at him, poke fun at his weight, and tell him to piss off; all whilst on a cocaine high.

He frowned and glanced down at his belly. It was pushing against the waistline of his trousers, making them dig into him painfully. Mycroft knew there was now a red line settled there on an almost permanent basis. The job he'd taken on in the government may have been perfect to rid himself of emotions on a tempory basis but whenever he got back home to check on Sherlock they would all come rushing back to him, the effect being he over ate. The business meeting he had to attend didn't help either. He drank far too much wine and attended far too many banquets. The overeating and his weight gain had only piled on more emotions, stronger and more deadly. Whenever he looked into a mirror he wanted nothing more than to break it into a million pieces.

He was filled with an unhealthy amount of self-hatred. People tended to avoid him like the plague. They found him strange and unsociable, and perhaps too clever for their liking. Being clever as far as Mycroft was concerned was a curse. It meant the world around him moved at lightning speed. He was ahead of everyone else, they were dawdling behind him. That made him the odd one out. He had no one. No one who he could turn to, who he could talk to, who could possibly even comprehend the daily struggles he faced. And so he bottled up his emotions, the effect being like a bottle of pop being shaken up with the lid still on. Once the lid was taken off Mycroft exploded. He'd crawl into bed and scream into his pillow, trying to drown out the speeding world around him and the unwanted emotions. Mycroft just wanted to feel numb, to be rid of all emotion. And that's why he was here. It was the only logical option in his mind; to die. It was the perfect solution. Mycroft wasn't a religious man. He didn't believe in the afterlife, or heaven, or hell. It was in his belief that once you stopped breathing in this life that was it, forever. Just darkness. He was too much of a coward to kill himself of course. His fear hindered him. He'd come close, sliding a blade into his skin but he couldn't bring himself to cut deeply. Whenever he had slashed at his wrist with his father's old pocket knife he had felt such a rush of relief, and most importantly a numbness like no other. Death would fix that feeling to a permanent setting. So that's when he'd come up with the plan. Jumping into the sea was in theory an easier way out. Mycroft wouldn't have to do anything. The blue waters would take his life for him. And no one would care. Certainly not his brother. Not his colleagues. Not even his PA would care.

His heart clenched inside its cage. He'd miss Anthea. She was loyal to him. She may not care about him but she had always made sure that he was as comfortable as possible. He was quite taken with her. Yes, if the dead could grieve after the living he would definitely grieve after her. Of course he'd miss his baby brother too, but he supposed in some way he had already come to terms with the loss of his brother. There was too much bad blood underneath the bridge now. Sherlock was a changed man, and Mycroft barely recognized him anymore. He clambered up onto the railings of the boat. Still no one had noticed him. Mycroft was glad that he'd chosen a boat with ignorant people on it. He couldn't risk being saved, and forced into living out yet more days of unwanted emotional turmoil. His eyes slid shut and he stretched out his arms. He lips formed a tight smile as the scene from the titanic edged into his mind.

I believe that the heart does go on …

Mycroft snorted. His heart wasn't going to go on. It was going to stop. It was beating it's last rhythm right this very second. And how ironic that he was thinking of the titanic now ; a boat which crashed. It wasn't a boat that was going to crash this time. It was going to be him to crash as his body hit the icy water below. His breathing was erratic now. His chest felt tight with tension. It wouldn't take much now, just a fractional movement. He tilted forwards and felt the winds hands curl around him, giving him a push in the right direction. And then he fell.

The air gushed around him, forcing him further and further down. For a fractional moment he felt like he was actually flying. He could just imagine suddenly taking off into the sky, as free as a bird. The only thing to break the perception of flying was the sharp jolt of pain he felt as he hit the water. His head dipped below the blue surface and the water came gushing at him from every direction. It pounded against his ear drums and squeezed at him, the pressure quite frankly was making him feel nauseous. He found himself daring enough to open his eyes. They stung severely for what felt like a long while but he eventually got used to it, not that there was particularly much to see. Just darkness. A never ending darkness. He suddenly felt smaller than he'd ever done in his entire life time ; small and frightened like a child who was hopelessly lost. The only thing that told him he was still alive was the tightening of his chest as his body demanded him to breath, and the way his heart was pounding harder by the minute as it desperately tried to pump oxygen that he was craving for. And then the pressure became too much, too painful. Mycroft was forced to open his mouth, just a fractional amount. Water gushed into his mouth and as he was forced to take a deep, gasping breath it began to fill his lungs. That was the painful part. The more water that flowed into his body, the deeper the breaths he took, allowing yet more water to enter. By this point his body was screaming at him, telling him that if he didn't hurry up and resurface for air then he'd die. In response to his body his mind seemed to pull back into the shape of a devious smirk. His vision was blurring now. Good, hopefully that meant that it was all going to be over soon. As his eyes slipped shut he completely failed to notice the ginormous, gleaming fish tail that swirled past him and the fact that that tail belonged to a kindly faced man. He barely registered the arms wrapping around his waist, tugging him upwards and even as his lungs took in actual air instead of water he remained unconscious.


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own**

**A/N: A Merm!Lock Mystrade fan fiction. **

**Warnings : Some references to suicidal thoughts. I promise there will be fluff! It's coming up very soon!**

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When Mycroft awoke he groaned. Generally awakening from a suicide attempt meant it had failed. What had gone wrong? He'd planned everything to a T. He'd made sure that there were no flaws in his plan but obviously there had been, a big whopping flaw in fact for him to still have the ability to open his eyes. His vision was still blurry, his body in clear shock about what he'd just put it through. His head lolled to one side. He blinked unsteadily, analysing the sight his eyes were now currently fixed on. There was man. A very naked and inexplicably handsome man. He blinked and squinted his eyes to see if he was imagining things, but no, there was definitely a naked man standing over him. He was dripping wet, fresh droplets of waters still running down his body. His lips were moving but Mycroft could barely make out a sound. A small sound escaped his lips. It sounded like a dying animal on its last legs. The naked man shushed him, placing a finger on his lips. Mycroft swallowed, his lips tingling underneath the tiny touch from the man. He half wondered if he'd been wrong in his analysis about heaven. Perhaps this was his angel. He didn't have much time to think about it. He was soon falling into unconsciousness once more.

When Mycroft woke a second time he found himself severely pissed off. He was back at home on his king sized bed. It was like he hadn't left at all. The suit that he'd completely ruined by jumping into the waters was hung up clean and pristine as it had always been. It taunted him and mocked him. So, it had all been one rather long and graphic dream brought on by his useless emotions. He rolled out of bed with a sigh, his limbs shaking beneath him as he stood, his whole body aching and so stiff that it was a hardship to merely stand. He didn't understand. That dream had seemed so real. He could have sworn the water had taken his life, that he'd been freed from life, emotions, and his daily pain. He was truly shaken up by it. He padded to his en suite and sighed loudly as he gazed at his reflection. The need to smash it into bits soured through him like an electric jolt. His reflection looked terrified, there were unshed tears in his eyes, and his complexion was far too pasty. He looked painfully ill. In a way Mycroft supposed he was. He turned on the taps on his sink and slowly filled the basin with warm water, watching the water with a scowl embedded into his features. He grabbed a cloth and wet it in the warm water and began dabbing it at his face. It was a feeble attempt to try and calm himself and as the water squeezed out of the cloth and dribbled across his slightly chubby cheek it only seemed to make matters worse. Just as a choked sob escaped his lips he became aware of a steady breathing behind him. He was not alone.

Mycroft let out a startled gasp and turned around so quickly he felt as though he had whiplash. He jumped backwards at the sight of the man from earlier. So all of that hadn't been a dream? Everything had been real? He'd really tried to end his life by jumping off a boat? And there had been a naked man hovering over him? Mycroft swallowed rather thickly. He wanted answers and he wanted them now. He stared at the man intensely, trying to decipher exactly what he was doing in his house and what the hell was going on. The man looked slightly younger than him, despite his silver mop of hair. His face was of a friendly sort and his deep, brown eyes were filled with so much kindness that Mycroft found himself tripping into them head first. The man was thankfully fully clothed now. It gave Mycroft a better idea of his status but he was still puzzled by the man. Whilst he was dressed in a smart shirt and trousers he was clad in a leather jacket that looked like it'd seen better days. He was well toned. Even if Mycroft hadn't seen him naked previously the muscles the silver haired man was carrying pressed against his shirt and were easily visible. So, this man, whoever he was, was in a position that needed him to be smart but also needed him to do some manual labour too. Or maybe the man was simply attached to jacket for sentimental reasons. Mycroft scoffed. He didn't really understand how people could form sentimentality over clothes. They were just pieces of fabric after all. But people connected them with memories and emotions and they tended to cling on to those moments in time, those powerful emotions. Why? It was a mystery to Mycroft. He wanted nothing to do with sentimentality or any of the emotions that came with it. He licked his suddenly too dry lips and took a deep breath, trying to gather his wits about him.

"If you don't explain what's going on. I shall call security." He stated, his voice shaking despite his best efforts. The man gave him a smile and looked awkward, biting his lip and shuffling his feet underneath him nervously. Mycroft sighed. "I'm being deadly serious. Tell me your name and your intentions right now or I shall call for security faster than you can blink."

The man's smile faltered slightly and he edged a little closer. "I'm Lestrade, um, Gregory Lestrade. And I have no intentions as such. I just wanted to make sure you're ok." The man had a thick London accent. A local man then. Good. At least there wouldn't be any trouble in communicating with him.

"I can assure you I am perfectly fine, Mr Lestrade." Mycroft retorted bitterly, his lips forming a thin line.

"Just Greg will suffice." There was that awkward smile again. Mycroft felt a fluttering sensation in his stomach but chose to ignore it. "And you're blatantly not fine – um –"

"Mycroft, Mycroft Holmes. But just call me Mycroft seeing as we're on first name basis anyway."

"Um, ok. Well Mycroft, as I was saying, you're not fine. Unless fine has a completely different definition to you. But as far as I'm concerned diving off a cruise ship and attempting to drown yourself is a clear sign that you're definitely not fine."

Mycroft's heart dropped in his chest and he sighed softly. "You saw that. Well, I suppose you must have. You're here after all and I'm decidedly not dead."

"I saved you."

Mycroft rolled his eyes and a miserable sigh passed his lips. "Of course you did. And why may I ask is it that you did such a ridiculous deed?"

"I wouldn't say it was ridiculous." Greg moved forwards again and reached out a hand to Mycroft's right side. "No one deserves to die like that."

Mycroft flinched away. What on Earth was the stranger doing? "Maybe I wanted to die like that." He muttered.

"Shh. It's ok." Greg cooed, as though speaking to a frightened animal. "You hurt your side when you made impact with the water. " Mycroft looked down at where the man's hand was reaching to. He indeed had a dark bruise covering a vast majority of his side. He frowned morosely and poked at it experimentally, hissing as a painful throbbing sensation overcame his body. "It hurts pretty badly, huh?" Mycroft just gave a short shrug. He was too embarrassed about being in nothing but boxer shorts, showing off his rather undesirable puppy fat. Gregory didn't seem at all phased. "Want me to get some ice for it?"

Mycroft sighed. "If you must."

Gregory gave him a slightly more confident grin and walked out of the bathroom. A moment later he returned with a plastic bag filled with ice, wrapped tightly in a tea towel. Mycroft was too tired to ask how he had managed to find such supplies. He had a sneaky suspicion that Anthea had something to do with it. "May I?" Gregory gestured towards the bruise and edged closer.

"Go ahead."

Greg nodded and moved closer yet to Mycroft, gingerly placing the wrapped up ice on the thick, purple bruise. Mycroft hissed from the pain and the sudden contact he felt as a second hand settled mindlessly on the small of his back. "Shhh. It's ok."

Mycroft swallowed. The kindness in Gregory's voice was far too much and too intense for a person who isn't used to receiving it, such as himself. "Why are you doing all this?"

"Doing what?" Dear God, that voice. It's so soft. It's like velvet to his ears.

"Helping me. Why did you save me? Surely I'm not worth the effort or the time."

Strong hands moved to cup his chin. "Do you honestly believe that? That you're not worth my effort and my time." Mycroft nodded dumbly in response. All he could concentrate on was how warm and comforting those hands felt and how Gregory's fingertips were gently caressing him. "Well, in which case you're an idiot."

Mycroft chuckled in surprise. No one usually dared to call him an idiot. Not unless they didn't want to live for another day. "Am I now?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yes. You're an idiot for thinking that you're worthless. I've seen enough hopeless sods end it young in my time, and why? Because they don't think they're good enough."

Now Mycroft's interest as peaked slightly. His eyebrow quirked further upwards. "Is that so?"

"Yeh, I'm a Sergeant at Scotland yard you see. Seen plenty of suicide attempts, some successful, some not. And let me tell you the way you were going to go wouldn't have ended nicely. Not that it's likely anyone would have found ya. The sea would have swept you away."

Ah. Gregory Lestrade. Now bells were starting to go off in Mycroft's head. Yes, he'd definitely heard that name somewhere before. He was admired greatly for his work at the yard. There were supposedly big things going for him in his career. He may even be promoted to a D.I in the near future if he kept up his good work. There was something puzzling him however. "How fascinating. You managed to find my body. You took me from the sea and I somehow ended back at home. How may I ask did that come about?"

"Well, um, I was on the boat. I saw ya jump. I wasn't about to let ya die now, was I?"

No, but I really wish you had, Mycroft thought with an inward sigh. He narrowed his eyes, analysing the sergeant. "It's funny." He mused. "I don't remember you being on the boat." This man was lying. It was plain as day from the way he was refusing to look at Mycroft in the eye and the slightly red tinged blush gracing his cheeks. "And even if you were how on Earth did we get back to London so quickly, hmmm? Care to explain?"

"You were out of it for a long while. You had hypothermia, what with diving into ice cold water and all. I looked after ya though and used my police skills to track down who you were and to find your home. Anthea, your PA allowed me to stay and check on you, seeing as I'm an officer and I think she was grateful that I was looking out for ya. Are you sure your mind isn't playing tricks on ya? I was out on that boat."

Mycroft's eyes narrowed further. He didn't buy it, not for one moment. Mycroft prided himself on being able to notice the details, to deduce. And every gut instinct was telling him that this man hadn't been on a cruise ship in his life. He bit down on his tongue and sighed. If this man wanted to lie then who was Mycroft to stop him. "Very well. I suppose I should thank you. That would be the polite thing to do, even if you did ruin my plans to die."

"I know it seems like killing yourself is the only option. I've been there. My family disowned me for hanging around the wrong kind of people. I had no one. I was a nobody. But I made myself a life. Things got better. They will for you too, I'm sure of it."

Mycroft gazed into the deep brown pools and they gazed right back and for one tiny moment it felt like the universe had stopped because here was a man that had had no one, that had felt like a nobody, and yet here he was doing relatively well for himself. Mycroft felt a spark of hope flicker in his heart. Perhaps he wasn't so alone after all. Of course he didn't allow that hope to show. Showing the emotions that bubbled inside of him made him feel so weak. So instead he simply said. "You can't possibly know that. You don't know me or my reasons behind what I did. And as much as I appreciate your help you can leave now. I'm sure Anthea will escort you out, seeing as she allowed you to walk in here."

"No."

"Excuse me." Mycroft found himself a little dumbfounded to say the least. It had been a long time since that two letter word had been specifically aimed at him.

"I said no. There's no way in hell I'm leaving you." Gregory's chest puffed out and he stood proud like a peacock, his eyes becoming softer if that was even possible. He placed the bag of ice to one side and grasped Mycroft's wrists. Mycroft tried to pull away but the grip tightened. Gregory's finger tips slid over scars old and new alike and he looked … sad. "You might do something stupid and if you do that's on me."

"I'm not a puppet that you can control." Mycroft mumbled feebly. "I do as I please."

"I don't want to control you, Mycroft."

"Then what do you want?"

"I want to be your friend."

Mycroft blinked and let out a short, sharp laugh. "You wouldn't like me."

"Can't I decide that for myself?"

This wasn't happening. This sort of thing just didn't happen to Mycroft. Nobody had ever asked him for his friendship. And those who called themselves Mycroft's friends weren't really his friends, they were just after his money and his power. A stuttering breath forced its way through his chest. "You don't need a man like me in your life."

"And what do you mean a man like you?"

Mycroft shivered as Gregory's fingertips continued to caress his scars. "I am as you might say royally fucked up." Mycroft didn't know what he'd been expecting but he certainly hadn't been expecting the warm bubble of laughter near his ear. "I'm glad you find it so funny."

The laughter stopped and Gregory frowned. "I don't find it funny that you think you're fucked up. I find it funny that someone as bloody posh as you is throwing around such vulgar words."

"I suppose that is rather amusing, yes." Mycroft found a genuine smile wrapping around his features.

"Please forgive me. I'm not usually so loose lipped."

"Forget about it. It kinda suits you anyhow."

"What swearing?"

"Na, just, I suppose I mean it suits ya to be so relaxed. I can tell ya don't get much chance to be like this."

"My job doesn't allow it."

"Your job? What is it that you do then? Something important going on how posh your place is, huh?"

Mycroft smiled. The poor man standing in his bathroom indeed looked completely lost in his grand mansion. He supposed they were from two different worlds. "You could say that, yes. I work for the government. Some might say I'm on my way to becoming the government."

"Wouldn't you have been missed then?" Gregory's fingertips were now running curiously underneath his jaw. Mycroft was blushing a feverish red.

"Me missed?" Mycroft blew out a sharp breath of air. "I highly doubt it.

"I tell ya what. You let me in your life and I'd miss ya. Cus from where I'm standing you're bloody amazing."

"Really?" Mycroft's voice broke and for a moment it felt like all of the emotions he'd kept inside were breaking through the dam he'd built to keep them there.

Gregory forced Mycroft to look directly into his eyes. "Really. I promise."

"How do I know if I can trust you?"

"You don't, but maybe, just maybe, you should make a leap of faith. Plus I've got an honest face." Gregory grinned and Mycroft found himself grinning with him. Whenever the man smiled it stirred something in Mycroft that made him feel as light as air. It was decidedly a nice feeling and such a huge contrast to the other feelings Mycroft was currently battling with.

"I –" Mycroft swallowed. There was a large lump now formed in his throat and it took him a while to find the ability to speak. "Very well."

"Brilliant!" Gregory grinned and did a little hop of victory, something Mycroft found most amusing.

"Where do you suggest we go from here then Sergeant Lestrade?" His eyebrows raised high on his forehead. "I suppose I should praise you in some form for helping me, though as I keep saying your help was highly unecercery."

"Maybe to you, but not to me. I'm just glad I got there in time."

Mycroft hummed and pursed his lips together, not justifying Gregory's words with an answer. Instead he said. "Well, perhaps I should shower dinner on you. I have some of the very best chefs in England. I'm sure that they can cook us up something most splendid." He felt a rosy blush flicker across his cheeks at some of the implications of what he'd just said. "It would be strictly professional of course."

Gregory grinned from ear to ear. "Of course."

"Right, um, that's settled then. Can I just have a minute to refresh myself?" Gregory nodded in reply, so Mycroft assumed he would leave but instead he just stood there stock still, staring at him with an unnerving intensity. "Ah, Gregory, I meant alone. Could you perhaps go and find Anthea. I'm sure she'll give you a tour around the establishment, if she hasn't already. I think it's nice weather today. Why not take a walk?"

"Oh." Gregory blinked, seemed to take a moment to process what Mycroft was saying and nodded, leaving Mycroft alone t gather his thoughts on his strange, silver haired savior.

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**Please leave a review x**


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER : I do not own **

**A/N: **

**This is a Mystrade Merm!lock fan fiction.**

**A huge thanks goes to TearsStainedAshes for leaving some lovey reviews! I'm currently participating in a Johnlock RP with her at the moment called "Faith, Trust and Pixie dust" Go and send her some love. She deserves it :) **

**Warning: First time arousal, some awkwardness, dodging sexy times XD  
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It had started out as a relatively normal day for Greg Lestrade, as normal as things got for him anyhow. He hadn't expected to see a man in the process of killing himself, but he had. Mycroft Holmes – hmm – he was a strange one. How could someone with so much power and money as he clearly had believe that their life was worth ending? It was an awful bloody shame because Mycroft really didn't see it – how wonderful he is. Greg saw it. He saw it from the moment Mycroft dove off the top deck of a cruise ship. Greg had looked up and it had been like seeing a shooting sky falling from the sky and into the darkness of the sea. He'd almost been blinded by the light blazing around the younger man and it had all but torn his heart out as he saw that light fade with each second that was bringing him closer to his untimely death.

Greg had seen a lot of death in his time, in one way or another. And he hadn't lied about being in the same position as Mycroft before. He'd had his own demons in the past that he'd fought, some he still had to contend with. He was better now though and maybe just maybe he could help out Mycroft too. There was something about the man with the auburn hair and the posh suits that made Greg want to reach out to him. He wanted to save that shooting star from falling ever again. Of course this was risky, but then Greg's life was full of risks. When he was hiding such a humungous and dark secret as he was it wasn't a surprise that he was in constant danger. But he felt like he could trust Mycroft, to a certain extent anyway. When one was fighting demons one doesn't look at another's demons, at least that was what Greg was hoping anyway.

That was how he found himself dining at the table with a complete stranger, who was completely reluctant to interact with him, that much was obvious. Greg didn't blame him. He knew what it was like to be saved when you just wanted to die, and it wasn't a pleasant feeling at all. It was a lot like having a swarm of angry wasps in your stomach. Mycroft Holmes didn't want his help but tough, he was going to get it. But instead of prying into the demons attacking he gave Mycroft an awkward smile and specifically avoided taking about his demons or even the topic of suicide. They discussed such things as family, politics and crime considering that was where both of their careers lay, and a few light hearted laughs made their way into the conversation.

Greg soon learned that Mycroft played an important part in the government. That certainly explained why he was rolling in cash and why Greg could practically smell raw power coming off of him. Greg should have run away when he found that out. He should have excused himself from the table and he should have gotten as far away from Mycroft as he possibly could. If any member of the government found out who he was – or rather what he was – he'd be truly screwed. Greg was something people didn't understand and a general rule of human nature things that are misunderstood are usually cut up and dissected down to the last particle. Greg shivered at the mere thought of being turned into some sort of experiment but something kept him glued to his seat, listening intently as Mycroft vented. He learnt that Mycroft had a younger brother that was fifteen years old living at a private boarding school, and apparently he was quite a trouble maker. Greg carefully tip toed around the subject of his own family, simply stating that they had come to a disagreement. He specifically left out what the disagreement was about, waving it off as nothing. If Mycroft was curious he hid it well, out of respect most likely.

Soon Greg could see Mycroft coming out of his shell. There was a tiny amount of trust that kept on flickering through the cold mask that was set almost permanently on the government official's face. It was brief but it gave Greg hope that maybe he and Mycroft could be friends. That would be nice. He hadn't had a friend before. Well, not a proper one anyway. He hadn't allowed anyone close enough to become friends with him. It made him wonder why Mycroft was so different.

As a general rule Greg didn't drink alcohol, but he found that he didn't want to refuse the wine that Mycroft kept pouring into his glass. It was a sweet wine and slid down his throat like honey. It took him awhile for him to notice that he was quite tipsy, well, maybe even a little drunk. The only thing that tipped him off about his current state was a bubble of laughter escaping his lips at a dangerously high pitch, and the rather pointed and bemused look that he received off Mycroft.

"I think - " He hiccupped and burst out into harder laughter, his eyes watering from the intensity of the joyous sound moving through him. "I think I'm pissed." He finally managed to spit out. To his surprise Mycroft joined in with his laughter.

"It would appear so. Did you drive here? Because I really don't think you should be driving in such an inebriated state."

"Yup." Greg stretched out his arms across the table and settled his head down on them, humming a random tune. "I drove. S'pose I'll have to sleep here then."

"Yes. Perhaps that would be for the best. Though not here. One of the spare bedrooms will suffice. Do you think you'll be able to walk there?" Greg merely shook his head in reply.

"Nah. Legs are like jelly."

Mycroft sighed, but it was an almost fond sigh and Greg couldn't help but grin at the sound. "Very well. I shall just have to help you up there myself." He stood and moved around the table. He grabbed hold of Greg's arm and pulled him up. Greg staggered about like a baby deer and almost fell flat on his face but Mycroft steadied him. "Careful. We wouldn't want you to fall flat on your face." Greg leant his head on Mycroft's shoulder and nuzzled him, making an almost keening sound. He felt Mycroft stiffen. "Please refrain yourself from acting like a lost puppy, Gregory."

"Mmm. K."

Mycroft gently helped him into a warm bed and pulled the covers around him. " Sleep well. And Gregory?"

"Mmm?"

"Thank you. I don't know why you bothered to help a useless sap like me but I'm rather glad you did now."

Greg's heart felt insanely warm with a feeling that he couldn't quite describe. "It's , um, no problem. Err.. stay with me."

He felt a deadly silence fall. The only noise he could hear was the sound of cogs slowly turning in Mycroft's mind. "Why?"

"Why not?" Greg retorted, rolling his head to the side to glance sleepily at Mycroft's figure hovering by the bedside. There was the sound of shuffling and of a few layers of clothes dropping to the floor. The covers were pulled back and a warm body slid underneath the covers. Greg smiled at Mycroft and dared to shift a little closer to him. "G'night."

"Good night, Gregory. It was so very nice to meet you."

Greg smirked to himself as he fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

Mycroft watched the sleeping man for a long time. Just watched, observing each fractional movement of his chest and the way he looked almost troubled in his sleep. It was strange. Gregory had looked like he was perfectly happy when he he'd been awake. But Mycroft knew better than most about how easy it was to pretend everything was ok when really things were falling to pieces. Maybe he and Gregory really did have more in common than it first appeared.

He reached out a hand and gently ran a finger down Gregory's chest. The man had a certain charm about him, even in his sleep. He shivered as he felt some of the pure muscle he was touching ripple beneath his finger tip. A small moan escaped the back of Gregory's throat. Mycroft smiled softly and rested his head against a pillow. Maybe he and this Gregory would get on after all. Things seemed a lot brighter all of a sudden. Yes, of course there was still rain clouds hovering over Mycroft but at least a bit of sun was shining through now. "Goodnight, Gregory." As he fell asleep he swore he heard the other man whisper his name in reply.

* * *

Greg blinked his eyes open blearily. He was greeted my stream of sunshine pooling over him. He blinked and turned his head slightly. He thankfully hadn't had enough alcohol to receive a hangover though he did feel rather strange. A fiery heat was settled in his stomach and … oh. He snaked a hand down to his trousers and swallowed when he felt a hard lump there. Fuck. So, this was what arousal felt. He'd heard people talking about this, he'd even done some research about what it felt like to have an erection, but he'd never experienced one in his whole life. That was because his body was … different. It didn't react in the same way as other bodies did at least how human bodies reacted anyway. It completely bypassed sexual interest of any kind, that is until now. His family had warned him about spending time with people on dry land. His mother had said that it would change him. He hadn't really noticed a difference till now, only changes in his mentalities and behaviours, not any physical changes thus far. To make it worse there was a warm body pressed against him with a very similar problem to his own. He shifted in the bed slightly and heard a small, startled gasp. Swallowing thickly, he turned around. He instantly locked eyes with a pair of terrified eyes. Greg frowned and swallowed again. "Um … sorry." Mycroft merely blinked. Greg tried to move again but that only resulted in both his own erection and Mycroft's erection brushing against each other. An electric jolt of heat rose through Greg's body and coiled in his stomach. He bit his lip, supressing the small moan that so desperately wanted to escape his lips. He didn't like the feeling one little bit. It made him feel as though he'd lost complete control of his body. "I'm really sorry. I should just leave. I have work – err yeh." He struggled to get out from under the covers, his cheeks turning a bright red. God, this wasn't meant to happen. This was just so wrong in every way. He tried to tell himself that he wasn't feeling aroused but his cock told him otherwise, twitching in his pants, begging to be let out. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Here, have my card." He fished out a small card with his office number and his personal mobile number out of his back pocket and tossed it onto the bed beside a very befuddled looking Mycroft. "Call me – I mean if you want to stay in contact with me. I mean – I'm just going to shut up." He quickly turned on his heel and fled from the building, completely and utterly mortified.

That night Greg sat in a warm bath and watched as his legs faded away and a magnificent greeny- blue tail took their place. He stared at it hatefully as it twitched and moved through the water. He hated this part of himself. If only he'd been born human. Things would be perfect. No more living in fear of being found out, no more awkwardness about his human biology, no more feeling like an outsider. He sighed softly, his tail flickering in annoyance. He'd really screwed up with Mycroft today. For one fleeting moment he had sworn that he and Mycroft had a connection, well that was completely blown now. There was no way Mycroft would even consider being his friend. Greg missed having someone to talk to. Since his family had casted him out for wanting to spend time with humans he had said goodbye to all of his friends. Greg had never felt so truly alone. His body sank further into his bath and his head ducked below the water, his silver hair swirling around his head like some sort of halo. It'd been a long shot giving Mycroft his contact card and he highly doubted he'd hear from him again. He just hoped that he wouldn't be called in to work one day to find out that Mycroft had tried to commit suicide again, and had succeeded. Greg stayed motionless under the water for hours, trying to drown out his mortification.


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own **

**A/N: This is a Mystrade Merm!lock fan fiction. Reviews are always appreciated. :) **

* * *

Mycroft stared at the small card on his desk for what seemed the twentieth time. It seemed to be purposely mocking him. He frowned. It had been exactly one week since he had met the mysterious Gregory Lestrade. He'd barely been able to concentrate on anything other than the man that had saved him, and the rather awkward goodbye that had taken place. At first he had just researched the man, just to make sure he was everything he'd said he was. It all checked out. Gregory Lestrade was a very respectable man in fact. He had had several arguments with himself about whether to call the young sergeant, all of which had ended in him talking himself out of it. The poor man had been utterly mortified when he'd run out. He'd left Mycroft with nothing more than a raging boner and a contact card. Well, that wasn't strictly true. He'd left him with the feeling of hope. Whenever he felt himself riding into the dark path he thought of his silver haired saviour and that always seemed to bring a little light to his days. The emotions stirring up within himself because of a man he barely knew were terrifying. They settled in his chest and made it hard to breathe and they gave him butterflies. He'd heard about the strange sensation brought on by attraction to people but until now he hadn't experienced it. He hadn't gotten close enough to someone to experience such a feeling. That's what made it so frightening. It was a completely new territory for him. And from the look of horror that had been on Gregory's face it was probably as equally frightening and new for him too.

Perhaps Mycroft was being presumptuous in thinking that the look of deep arousal that had been settled on Gregory's face ( before the terror and shock that is) had been genuine attraction. He couldn't see anyone being attracted to him in a million years, especially not a man like his mysterious rescuer. Gregory was the sort of man that you'd probably just pass on the street without a second thought but there were certain qualities that when inspected made him seem very handsome indeed. Perhaps it was his eyes ; the deep brown pools seemed to go on forever. Mycroft had been sure that if he looked into them long enough he'd trip head first into them. Or maybe it was the rippling muscles underneath his clothes. His hair, mmm, God his hair. It was speckled with silver and it was so thick and luscious. It made Mycroft a little weak kneed at the mere thought of it. It could of course be the tattoo Mycroft had spotted on the back of Gregory's neck. It gave the man just the right element of danger to be exciting but it was in a place that could be easily covered up, meaning the man was still classy and that he didn't like to show off. Dear lord, was he really into the whole bad boy thing? Mycroft sighed softly. He had no idea what he was into. He certainly wouldn't find out if he was into that sort of thing if he stayed behind a desk staring at that dam business card.

With a sudden gush of bravery he picked up his office phone and dialled Gregory Lestrade's personal mobile number. The phone rang out three times. Mycroft was just about to give up when a rather groggy and fatigue filled voice answered.

"Hello? Who the bloody hell is this? It's … fucking four in the morning!"

Mycroft flinched. Ah. He'd completely lost track of the time. He was completely cut off from the world in his office. "I apologize. I can tell this is bad timing."

"Mycroft? Christ. I'm sorry. It's just I've only just gotten to bed a couple of hours ago. And I'm due to work at nine. I didn't mean to snap at you. Is everything alright."

"I'm not planning to jump off a boat any time soon, if that's what you mean. Sorry, I didn't mean … never mind. I realize this is completely inconvenient."

"Nah. No trouble at all. I'm sorry about ditching ya before. I just… the situation was rather awkward."

"Mmm. Tell me about it. I'm sorry about scaring you off."

"What? No. You didn't scare me off. I just- I'm not used to my body acting like that."

"You do know that it's perfectly ok to be gay or bisexual in this century."

"Err… yeh I know. That isn't quite what I meant. I mean you're a perfectly good looking guy.

"But? I'm sensing a but."

"But I haven't done anything with anyone, not like what I think you're implying."

"Me either. The opportunity just hasn't presented itself."

"Until now?"

"Until now."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying that… maybe we should get dinner at some point. Together." There was a strange amount of splashing from the other end of the line. Mycroft frowned. But finally Gregory answered albeit in a very timid sounding voice.

"You're asking me out on a date basically, aren't you?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. It was an awful idea. I don't know what I was thinking when I picked up the phone to call you. It's just … you're quite handsome and you did save me. I was incredibly ungrateful of that but now…"

"You want to thank me with a date?"

"Yes."

"Sounds like a fab idea. It could be fun I suppose."

"Yes. It very well may be a spot of fun. So what do you say? It's fine either way."

"I say… what time shall we meet?"

Mycroft smiled and let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "I can clear my schedule. When are you free?"

"After I finish work. So about eight pm. Is that too late?"

"No. Of course not. I shall send a car for you at eight."

Mycroft hung up before he could talk himself out of what he'd just suggested.

* * *

That night one man sat staring at a mountain high pile of paperwork, not completing any of it, instead opting to carefully plan out his first ever date. The other stared down at his long and glorious tail with a frown scrawled across his features, contemplating what he'd just said yes to and whether he was doing the right thing.

* * *

Greg was bouncing his knee up and down underneath the table nervously. His shirt felt too tight now and he felt hot and anxious. What the hell was he doing? He shouldn't have said yes. This couldn't possibly work out. He was… he was too different. He wasn't human. And Mycroft … well Mycroft was so brilliantly human it hurt.

"Please relax, Gregory. There is no need to be nervous." Mycroft said softly, clearly noting how nervous Greg felt.

Greg nodded. Yes, relax. He needed to relax. He took a few deep breaths through his nose to try to slow how fast his heart was beating. It was no use though. He still couldn't stop the internal panic going on within him. He should go. God, he should just leave. The restaurant was far too posh for him and this was the closest he'd gotten to a human being before. Did he look ok? He'd had a rather gruelling day at work and had spent most of his day chasing after idiotic criminals. As a result he hadn't had much time to change and despite wearing his best suit he did look a little odd compared to Mycroft in his Italian brought suit. He almost jumped out of his skin when he felt fingers lightly brushing over his. He glanced up to see Mycroft looking at him with a soft tenderness.

"Relax. Honestly you'd think I'd be the one needing the comforting. But you look far more on edge than I am."

Greg gave him a lopsided smile. "I really don't do this sort of thing."

"Well, I suppose in a way that's good. We're both at the same level of awkwardness. I've never been on a date, never kissed anyone… "

The crestfallen expression on Mycroft's face almost broke Greg's heart. "Maybe we can change that tonight." He said without really thinking or caring about the consequences of what he'd just implied.

Mycroft's eyes widened and he swallowed. "You're a little presumptuous, aren't you?"

Greg cocked one of his eyebrows upwards. "You don't want me to kiss you then?"

Mycroft gave him a sly smirk and picked up his menu. "I suggest the steak. They cook it to order. I personally like it rare."

"What? – " Greg huffed a laugh and shook his head in amusement. "Make that two rare steaks."

"Good choice, Gregory."

"Yes, I believe I have made a good choice."

Greg wasn't talking about the steaks any more.

* * *

They were giggling like a pair of school children as they tumbled into Mycroft's house, both tipsy from the wine and completely happy and content with each other's company. Greg turned to Mycroft and grasped hold of his wrist, tugging him closer. "There's a little something I promised you." Before he could really contemplate what he was doing his lips were lightly brushing against Mycroft's. A strange warmth pooled into his stomach and he smiled into the brief yet oh so tender kiss. Mycroft smiled too and began to kiss him back. A warm hand pushed underneath Greg's shirts and long, slender fingers gently splayed out along his well-toned torso.

"Thank you." Mycroft breathed as Greg slowly pulled away.

"No." Greg shook his head, chuckling softly. "I believe it's me who needs to be doing the thanking. I've never met a man quite like you before."

"The feeling is quite mutual."

A thick silence fell between the two. "What now?"

"You can sleep with me tonight." Mycroft sighed and rolled his eyes, probably due to Greg's involuntary outbreak of giggles.

"Not like that, Gregory."

Greg pouted playfully and leant up to peck Mycroft on the lips. He grasped hold of Mycroft's hand and somehow in their stumbling and giggling state they found their way to one of the many bedrooms. They crawled underneath the covers and curled up to each other, falling asleep almost instantly.


	5. Chapter 5

When Greg awoke he found himself in a very familiar situation to the first time he'd woken up in a bed with Mycroft Holmes. Mycroft was already awake and he was staring at him with wide, inspecting eyes. It was as though he expected Greg to run away again and he was preparing himself for rejection. Greg sighed. He'd overstepped the line with Mycroft completely now, just by kissing him. He wasn't going to run away. Instead he pulled Mycroft onto his chest and hugged him tightly. "Morning." He kissed Mycroft on the head lightly.

Mycroft had turned a rosy pink colour. He coughed awkwardly. "Morning, Gregory. Did you sleep well?"

Greg smiled and sighed into Mycroft's auburn hair. "I did as a matter of fact. I dreamt of you."

Mycroft laughed nervously. "You did?"

"Ahuh. It was a strange dream. We were getting chased by zombie's."

Mycroft playfully slapped Greg on the chest and mumbled "Idiot."

"Mmm. I'm an utter idiot." Greg hummed in agreement.

"You saved me. I think it's safe to say that you're a complete moron."

Greg frowned. "I saved you because I couldn't bear to let someone so young end their lives in such a horrific way. You deserve so much better, Mycroft."

"And I think I found something far better." Mycroft returned, his soft eyes gazing up into Greg's.

Greg couldn't help but grin. Mycroft wasn't the only one to have found something better in life.

* * *

Mycroft and Greg took their relationship slowly, neither wanting to rush into the physical aspects of things too quickly. But when they finally did move things to the next level it felt almost magical. They're bodies fitted together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. There were still insecurities from both parties however. Both men were suffering chronically from body image issues. Mycroft saw himself as overweight and not at all a pretty sight. Greg was uncertain of what to do with his human body and the way he was currently using it was a terrifying aspect indeed. Greg was determined to push past his own worries though. He'd done enough research on this sort of thing to pull this off, in theory anyway. The important thing was that Mycroft felt comfortable in his own skin. He placed butterfly kisses down the length of Mycroft's neck, his lips barely caressing the skin. Mycroft shivered, processing the barely there touches. "Are you sure about this?" He whispered, his voice strained.

Greg placed more kisses along Mycroft's broad shoulders and hummed softly. "I think we're a little far into this to turn back." He laughed and wriggled his hips slightly, making Mycroft gasp out his name as his cock brushed past his prostate.

"But – why? I mean I'm nothing special."

Greg growled and moved his lips up to Mycroft's, cutting off any other lies that wanted to spill from the younger man's lips. After what felt like hours Greg pulled back. He took hold of Mycroft's face in both of his hands. "You're special to me. You, Mycroft, have changed my life. I feel like I saved you for a reason. Now, what's it going to take for you to believe me? For you to know how truly beautiful you are in my eyes?"

"It might take a lot of persuading." Mycroft smiled shyly up at him.

"I'll see what I can do."

Greg sent his mouth back to work. He kissed every inch of Mycroft's skin and began to slowly make love to him. It was a strange yet wonderful sensation and soon both he and Mycroft were lost in a bizarre bubble of moans and groans as their bodies danced nervously with each other. The warmth curling inside his belly turned into a blazing heat and Greg soon found himself crying out in ecstasy as his body found its release. Mycroft came tumbling after with a strained yet joyous cry of his name. When Greg pulled out he felt utterly sated and a goofy grin was plastered on his face, matching Mycroft's equally insane grin. Their chests moved against each other as both men tried to catch their breath. "Believe me now?" He panted out.

"I might need a bit more convincing." Mycroft bit his lip, his whole body flushed in a new wave of arousal.

Greg grinned and flipped their positions so that Mycroft was lying on top of him, his weight pinning him down. "That can be arranged." He murmured quietly, his lips already attacking Mycroft's own with a passionate force. He wasn't about to hold back. Not when he'd been dragged into the path of the brilliant Mycroft Holmes.

* * *

"You're filthy."

Greg sighed and looked at himself for the first time all day. It would appear he was indeed covered in all sorts of grime, blood, and substances that he couldn't quite explain. "It's your brother. I swear he's gotten me into more trouble than I've ever been in my life."

Mycroft smiled wryly and shook his head in deep amusement. "I can only imagine. It must be hell working with him." He sidled up to Greg and wrapped him up in a hug. "I can't thank you enough for what you're doing with him. He's a changed boy. I've been trying to clean him up for so long now. It's a shame about him dropping out from school but at least he has something to occupy his time with now."

"It's alright. He's a good kid." Greg sighed softly into Mycroft's shoulder. Sherlock had shown up one day on a case Greg had been working on. Greg had recognized him almost instantly from the few photo's he'd seen of him jotted around Mycroft's mansion. He was definatly a Holmes ; damaged, lonely, slightly snooty and inexplicably clever. Though he'd been completely riddled with drugs he'd solved the case before Greg could even get a look in. Mycroft had politely requested for Greg to take Sherlock under his wing and well there was no way Greg could have even considered saying no. So Greg had cleaned Sherlock up, allowed him on a few cases, and had just generally adopted Sherlock as his own. Sometimes though it was almost nightmarish being surrounded by two Holmes. And sometimes it was simply wonderful. Sherlock had turned out to be a good friend of Greg's and Mycroft … was everything that Greg both needed and wanted. If he wasn't so cautious about being in a relationship with a human he'd even go as far to say as he was in love with the man. As it was he was still terrified of Mycroft finding out his true identity. "Do you mind if I take a quick bath?" He asked, eager to clean himself of the filth he was covered in.

Mycroft looked at him with a curious glint in his eyes. "Of course you can. Mind if I join you?"

"What?! No!" Greg took a panicky step backwards, his eyes widening in horror. Mycroft couldn't join him. If he did he'd find out his true form and he'd probably – no he would almost definitely – freak out. He exhaled deeply and looked away from the look of pure hurt written on Mycroft's face. "No. Sorry. I'm all dirty. It wouldn't be pleasant at all." He quickly hurried into the closest of many bathrooms (forgetting to lock the door in his hurry) He stripped from his clothes hurriedly and ran himself a warm bath. Once satisfied with the bath's temperature and depth he dropped himself into it with a slight splash. He sighed sadly as his legs faded beneath the water and a tiny edge of his tail poked through the surface of the water.

* * *

He's been in there a while, Mycroft noted to himself. He was biting on his lower lip in agitation. Something was terribly wrong with Gregory. Mycroft was unsure as to what it was but at a guess it probably had something to do with the day his lover had had at work. He had been covered in all sorts of disgusting substances. Some of the stains that Mycroft had spotted made him physically shudder in repulsion. He dreaded to think about all the awful things Gregory had to deal with. It only reminded him of just how dangerous the older man's job was. Then again he was a fine one to talk. His job was as dangerous – if not more so – than Gregory's. Especially in present times as he was dealing with Jim Moriarty (the world's youngest master mind criminal) But still, Mycroft didn't have to deal with half of the trying ordeals that the silver haired sergeant went through. He was stressed and defensive, and he's overworked. Mycroft's brow furrowed in worry. Maybe Gregory needed some time alone… or maybe he needed some help relaxing. Gregory always found a way to relax Mycroft when he was particularly stressed out. Mycroft only found it fair that he returned the favour.

He walked cautiously to the bathroom and tried the handle. The door was unlocked. He swallowed a thick clump of saliva that had found its way into his mouth and pushed the door open. He blinked when all he could see was an empty bath. He crept closer. On further inspection the bath wasn't empty. He could just make out the outline of Gregory underneath the blue water. He looked so peaceful and content underneath the water. Almost like he was dead. Thankfully his chest was still moving up and down, so not dead, just incredibly relaxed. Right, panic over. He was just about to make his presence known when he noticed something peculiar. There was a noticeable green shape beneath the water. It melded with Gregory's creamy torso. It looked suspiciously like a gigantic tail. Mycroft snorted and rolled his eyes at the mere thought. It was completely ridiculous. But then there was a quiet splash that signalled a slight disturbance of the water's surface. His eyes moved slowly to the side and his lips formed a little 'O' shape. He could see a tip of a very real and completely ridiculous tail that shouldn't have been there but was. His heart kicked out against his chest and his breath caught painfully in his throat. A tail? A bloody tail. He reached out a trembling hand, wanting to touch the strange and foreign object flickering about in his bathtub. Just as he was about to touch the impossible tail however he saw Gregory's eyes snap open. He reeled back and yelped in fear, his legs bolting ahead of his body and forcing him to run out of the bathroom. He kept on running till he found himself getting into a sleek black car and ordering his driver to take him as far away from the property as possible. He felt a strange feeling tighten in his chest. It was possibly a combination of fear, shock, and guilt because he had left so suddenly without so much as an explanation. He was in too much shock to care.


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own. I'm sadly not Moffat.**

**A/N: **

**This is a Mystrade Merm!lock fan fiction.**

**A huge thanks goes to the reviews I have received off TearStainedAshes and to Chiho Kazusa & ewoo for following & to Mighty purr for adding this story to your favorites . Your support means the world to me.**

* * *

Mycroft didn't make contact with Gregory for months. He was completely perplexed by the man. What had he seen in the bathroom? It had certainly looked a lot like a tail. A huge green tail. Of course that was ridiculous, utterly and truly preposterous. Perhaps his mind had simply been playing tricks on him. So why was it so hard to pick up the phone and call Gregory? He didn't really have an answer to that, instead he blamed it on the sudden intake of important work that he was practically drowning in. He threw himself into his job, attending meetings all over the world, filling out mountains of paperwork, and most importantly trying his dam hardest to forget about a certain sergeant at Scotland yard. It was no use though. How could he forget about the man that had saved him? He fell into a dark depression, the blackness in his heart that had previously been chased away by Gregory returning rapidly. He overate, overworked, and ran himself into the ground. It was only as he was staring down at an Italian dish that just so happened to be Gregory's favorite that he realized just how foolish he'd been. Gregory had made his life worth living for, he'd given Mycroft a purpose, and had cared for him in ways nobody had done before. He was an utter to have let him go so easily. He stood up, discarded his food, straightened his tie and took a deep breath. He was going to have to make a very large apology to Gregory. He'd beg and get on his knees if it meant getting him back.

* * *

It had been months since Greg had heard from Mycroft. Bloody months. He was completely fed up and constantly on edge, frightened that Mycroft's eyes had lingered on his tail long enough to figure out that he wasn't human. He was half expecting the British armed forces to jump him at any moment so that he could be experimented on. He'd tried texting Mycroft, calling him too, and he'd sent a desperate amount of emails. There were no replies. None at all. It was like Mycroft had fallen off the edge of the planet. Oh God. What if he'd committed suicide? The thought had occurred to Greg far too often over the passing days. He'd taken to swimming the ocean and scouring all the top suicide spots in his spare time. Luckily he hadn't spotted Mycroft doing such a thing. He had however saved quite a few young teenagers all preparing to end their pain. And that was all very well and good. It still gave him a warm feeling in his heart when he saved someone but it wasn't Mycroft. He lost so much sleep because of worrying about Mycroft that he could barely function at work and had been taken off the front line so to speak. He was now reduced to filling in paperwork that he barely registered and drinking twenty something cups of coffee a day just to stay coherent enough to fill it in.

On one particular day Greg's brain was completely fried. He'd closed his eyes for what felt like seconds but when he opened them again his watch proved that it had been hours rather than seconds. He sighed heavily. He still had so much paperwork to get through. A cough from close by startled him out of his wits. He blinked in shock and turned to where the noise had come from.

"Oh, Gregory."

Greg swallowed. He'd recognize that voice from anywhere. "Mycroft?" He said in a small voice.

A dark figure stepped out into Greg's line of sight. "Hello, Gregory. It's nice to see you."

"Hello?" Greg asked incredulously, feeling a spark of anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach. "Month's of bloody nothing and all I get is a hello and a nice to see you?!"

"Ah, you're angry." Mycroft's face was stone cold and somehow that made Greg feel even more aggravated.

"Angry?!" Greg stood to his feet and slammed his fists against the surface of his desk, sending paperwork flying everywhere. "I – you're unbelievable, you know that? Would it have killed ya to send a text my way?"

"I apologize – I've been away on business."

Greg read Mycroft's face. He seemed sincere enough. "Fine." He slipped back down into his leather chair, leaning his head backwards. "I've just been worried about you is all."

"I can tell." Mycroft noted, his voice soft and sad. "It look as though you haven't been sleeping or eating properly in a long while."

Greg shrugged and looked away from the look of pity in Mycroft's eyes. He didn't need Mycroft's pity. "It's been hard for me. I thought what we had with each other was good. No, it was bloody brilliant."

"It was." Mycroft frowned and edged closer. "And it still will be." Delicate fingers scraped underneath Greg's chin, forcing him to look up at Mycroft.

"I know that you saw me in the bathroom that day." Greg mumbled quietly.

"I saw something." Mycroft hummed, gently rubbing his thumb against the stubble that had gathered on Greg's face. "I'm not sure what, and I'm not entirely sure I want to know. But I do know that these past few months have been incredibly hard without you by my side."

Mycroft captured Greg's lips in his and for the next few hours all was forgotten. Neither man spoke. Their lips were far busier with less mundane tasks.

* * *

A whole year passed by in a whir. The whole bathroom incident had been pushed back and ignored. Life moved on as it always had a habit to and for a long while things were better than ever with Greg's relationship with Mycroft. They were blissfully happy. Greg watched as Mycroft's cool as a cucumber mask was slowly stripped away and the usually so closed off man allowed him into his life.

And now Greg was moving up in his career. He'd been promoted to a D.I position in the murder division. He had a very sneaky feeling Mycroft may have pushed his bosses in the right direction to promote him. Greg didn't mind. It was a rather sweet gesture from Mycroft. It was his way of showing sentiment, Greg supposed. In a way Mycroft always seemed to find it hard to show how much he cared about Greg. Though Greg understood why Mycroft struggled with that sort of thing. No one had really cared for Mycroft before, not until Greg saved him. This was just Mycroft's silly and rather extravagant way of saying thank you.

"Congratulations, Gregory." Mycroft raised his glass of champagne to Gregory's and the two clinked together with high pitched chime.

Greg gave Mycroft a cheeky grin and pulled him in for a kiss, his hands moving to grip his lover's thighs. "Thanks, Mycroft. Really, thank you. I wouldn't have gotten this far without you."

"Nonsense, Gregory. You deserve this. You've earned it with all your hard work."

Greg blushed at the praise and laughed softly. "So – erm – you said you had plans. May I inquire as to what those plans are?" Mycroft smirked. It was one of those sly and unnerving smirks that Greg had come to associate with the general persona of Mycroft. It meant that he was planning something big. "Oh God." He groaned. "What have you done?"

"I, my dearest Gregory, have brought us a yacht." That already smug smirk grew on Mycroft's face.

"You've what?!" Greg exclaimed, his eyes widening. "Myc –um –"

"Oh, do relax. It's just a boat. I thought we could sail it out for a bit today."

"Uh – I can't. I mean I can't swim." Greg stammered. He felt his gut twist inside of him into a large knot as he wove the lie. It couldn't be further from the truth. The truth. One drop of water on Greg's skin and the truth would come out and Mycroft would definitely leave him then. The months of Mycroft being absent from his life came flooding back to him, an internal panic pulsing through him like a second heartbeat. He didn't want to be apart from Mycroft again. It had been painful enough the first time around.

Mycroft narrowed his eyes and arched an eyebrow. "You forget that you saved me from jumping off a boat. Call me presumptuous but you would have had to have known how to swim for that."

"Na," Greg swallowed. "I used a … life boat to get to you. I can't swim. What if I fall overboard and I …drown." He knew that it was useless. The excuses he was using were weak and feeble and had massive holes in them. Of course he could swim. That was the bleeding problem.

Mycroft's eyes narrowed further. "I took some swimming lessons after that … incident. I think you'll find I'm an excellent swimmer now. So I'll just have to teach you."

Greg frowned and shook his head. "It's ... uh fine."

Greg knew that he was in deep trouble.

* * *

They were on the boat now. It was a grand boat, beautifully crafted and well designed. Greg and Mycroft were laughing and chatting on the deck like gossiping school girls, celebrating Greg's promotion joyously. Greg had almost forgotten about his worries, which was until Mycroft suggested that they should take out the boat for a spin. That's when his troubles really began. As Mycroft steered the boat Greg had to keep on dodging and jumping away from the sprays of water threatening to come in contact with his skin. Luckily Mycroft seemed oblivious to what was going on behind him. It was an almost impossible task. In fact it _was _impossible as he soon found out. The boat took a particularly sharp turn and a large gush of water flew over Greg, soaking him to the skin. He gasped loudly. He could already feel his transformation coming on. He had to act quickly. Making a rush decision he dived overboard, landing in the water with a loud splash, his legs fading into a tail the moment he sank beneath the surface.

* * *

"Sorry!" Mycroft shouted over his shoulder. "I don't have the best boating skills in the world." He frowned when he got no reply. In fact Gregory had been mysteriously silent for a while now. He'd seemed worried about something. And what on Earth was all that nonsense he's come out with about not being able to swim? He slowly turned around, a bad feeling bubbling in his stomach. He blinked when his eyes came into contact with an empty deck, no silver haired detective in sight. "Gregory?" He questioned thin air. A deep frown furrowed its way into his brow as he was met with a deathly silence. He closed his eyes and forced himself not to panic, breathing in and out slowly to try and calm himself down. People didn't just disappear. He strained his ears to try and hear everything, to deduce where his Gregory was. He heard a definite splosh of water. He opened up his eyes again and walked over to the rails, looking down at the deep blue water. He felt an ice cold shiver run up his spine. This was all too reminiscent to the time he'd attempted suicide. He peered at the water curiously, noting the bubbles rising to the surface, which could only mean one thing. "Gregory?" He choked out. Without really thinking he clambered onto the railings, depositing his jacket and tie onto the ground. His heart jumped to his throat and his breath began to shoot out of his lungs sharply. He forced himself forwards and he fell into the water with an almighty splash, the water erupting upwards like a volcano above him from where his body had made impact with the blue liquid. He immediately felt himself panic, his whole body freezing up. He forgot to breath and forgot that he was supposed to be looking for Gregory. He simply stopped.

His head was beginning to hurt and he urgently needed to breath. He felt something brush past his leg and his mouth opened as he automatically cried out. The gentle touch tightened around his leg and something wrapped around his waist securely, forcing him upwards and causing him to resurface. He gasped for air, spluttering out a mouthful of water. His eyes were wide and were searching for what had grabbed him. He gasped in shock when he saw it. A large green tail flickering upwards and disappearing underneath the water. The image of Gregory in the bathtub and the large green tail he'd sworn to forget about floated to his mind. His eyes narrowed as things slotted into place within his great mind. The conclusion his mind came up with seemed quite impossible and yet plausible at the same time. "Gregory!" He called out. "I know you're down there! I'm not an idiot!" Of course right now he felt a lot like an idiot, shouting at nothing, bobbing aimlessly in freezing cold water. He watched in fascination as bubbles started to rise to the surface of the water and set of damp silver hair poked up through the water. A pair of dark brown eyes filled with fear followed, along with the rest of Gregory's well-toned torso. He licked his lips. His mouth suddenly felt bone dry. He wasn't quite sure about how to react. His lips pursed together, probably giving him an expression that looked like he was sucking on a lemon.

"Before you say anything … I'm sorry that it had to end like this… I … I really liked you…and…"

Mycroft frowned at what Gregory was saying and cocked his head to one side, evaluating the completely devastated looking man before him. "End?" He murmured softly. "I do not understand. What is ending, Gregory?"

Mycroft watched a thick fog shrouded his lovers eyes and he hung his head low. " I think to you know perfectly well that I mean us. "

Mycroft grasped Gregory's wrist and gently tugged him closer. "Gregory … what's going on. I don't understand." He studied the other man with close regard, analysing him carefully.

"I," Gregory swallowed. "I'm not who you think I am. I've been lying to you for so long…and God you almost found out last year… I'm sorry."

Mycroft blinked, a small frown burrowing its way into his brow. "Gregory, you're worrying me. Just tell me what exactly is going on, now please. It's rather cold in this water."

"Let me show you." Gregory nodded slowly and guided Mycroft's hands underneath the water. He gasped as he felt something cold and solid brush past his fingers.

" Wha -? What is that?" Mycroft stammered out after a few minutes of tense silence.

"What did you see in the bathtub a year ago, what did you see just now?"

"Oh."

"Oh?"

Mycroft swallowed several times and withdrew his hands. "What are you, Gregory?" His words were surprisingly calm, not angry, not accusing, just soft and composed.

"I'm a merman." Gregory replied, his voice a small murmur and holding none of its usual confidence.

Mycroft could feel a headache coming on. The cogs in his mind were beginning to grind together. He took a deep breath to steady himself. "I'm not sure how to respond."

"There's no need to say anything." Gregory choked out. Mycroft didn't miss the tears welling in those dark chocolate brown eyes that he loved so dearly. "I'll just go. Let me get a head start."

"A head start?"

"Yeh… I don't really fancy becoming an experiment."

"An experiment?" Mycroft's mouth fell agape. He quickly grabbed Gregory and pulled him to his chest, his hands cupping his lovers face. "Never, Gregory. I could never do that to you." A tear drop cascaded down Gregory's face.

"But…I'm not human. I'm a creature, Myc. I bloody have a tail! How can a man like you be with a …thing like me."

Mycroft frowned and wiped his thumb down Gregory's wet cheek. "You're not a thing." He stated firmly. "I don't know what you are but what I do know is that you are my Gregory, and I love you very, very much."

Gregory sniffled, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Really?"

"Really. This situation is quite bizarre, I won't lie. However, I have known you for over a year now and you have saved me in more ways than I can even describe. Tell me something; are you the same man I wake up with every morning?"

"Yes…"

"And do you make me the most wonderful pancakes in the morning?"

"I wouldn't say wonderful. I can't really cook. But… um…yes."

"And was it you who saved me on that fateful day when I jumped from a cruise ship?"

"Yes! That was me! Christ, Myc. What are you getting at?"

Mycroft sighed and rolled his eyes. "What I'm getting at my dearest Gregory is that just because there's a part of you that I was unaware of before it doesn't mean you're not the man that I love so dearly. And yes, this is all strange and it's going to be awhile before I get my head around it. I may need some space and some time to think about what this means for us …"

"I understand." Greg interrupted, his voice cracking painfully.

"Gregory, I wasn't finished. What I'm trying to say is … I'm not running away from you again. Because that's what I did last time and it only caused us both misery. I do need time apart from us though, not because I want what we have to end, but rather because I have to get my mind around that I'm sleeping with…"

"A Merman." A small grin broke out across Gregory's features and Mycroft shook his head in amusement.

"Yes." Mycroft sighed softly. "What is it called? Bestiality? I'm in love with someone who isn't human and to be quite frank I'm not entirely sure why I'm so calm about that. I shouldn't be. I should be panicking right now, not considering how to move on from this so our relationship can continue. I love you, Gregory. You pulled me out of the dark when I was certain there was no way out, and you have given my life such purpose, and I'm entirely thankful for that."

"I love you too, Myc. I'm sorry for not telling you about this. I was just so … scared." Gregory's face was crumpled with an agonizingly obvious pain.

"You don't have to be scared anymore." Mycroft whispered softly, pulling Gregory close and sealing his lips in a kiss.

* * *

**Please leave a review x**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:**

**This is a Mystrade Merm!lock fan fiction.**

**Alas this is the end. I hope you've all enjoyed the journey. A huge thanks goes to everyone who has shown me support with this story. **

* * *

Mycroft groaned loudly, a hacking cough spilling from his lips for the tenth time in a matter of minutes. He was trembling despite the fact he was covered in layers of thick blankets, and snuggled against a hot water bottle, a warm flannel clinging to his sweaty forehead. Mycroft was decidedly sick, stuck in bed with a common cold none the less. He huffed and rolled onto his stomach, groaning again as his whole body seemed to throb in protest. He couldn't afford to be sick. He was on his way to becoming the British government for goodness sake, but Anthea had insisted on him staying in bed. All he could think about was the meetings he was missing. Well, that wasn't strictly true. There was something else on his mind, or rather someone else. He sighed loudly. Mycroft wanted nothing more than to cuddle up against his Gregory, but his Gregory wasn't here. They were on a 'break'. Mycroft was now chastising himself for ever suggesting that he and Gregory should part ways, even for a small amount of time. No matter how strange and utterly peculiar the situation was (he was romantically involved with someone who was part fish for goodness sake.) It still felt wrong to be apart from him.

Mycroft was longing after the silver haired D.I like a child craving for ice cream on a hot summers day. He missed breathing in the unique scent that belonged to him, having strong arms wrapped around him, and comforting words whispered down his ear. He could really use with some comforting words right about now.

He supposed that he should at least take the opportunity to think over what steps he wanted to take regarding his and Gregory's relationship but his brain was so fogged up that it made the already warped and twisted situation even more difficult to process. The cogs in his mind were turning but at an agonizingly slow pace, and it was starting to give him a headache. Or maybe that was just his brain telling him that he was sick and that he should be sleeping. As always Mycroft ignored his body. He shrugged the blankets off and dragged himself out of bed, creeping out of his room to his office. He slumped in his office chair as soon as he sat down in it and he picked up some paperwork in his urgent 'the state of this country is going to crumble if I don't attend to this' pile.

* * *

Anthea shook her head and sighed softly, watching from afar as her boss struggled to even keep his eyes open. He clearly hadn't listened to her advice to rest in bed, so she guessed she'd just have to get in a reinforcement. Maybe he wouldn't listen to her but he'd certainly listen to a certain D.I that she knew her boss was missing dearly (not that he would ever admit it.) Her hands clasped her phone, her fingers already twitching over her contact list. She tapped on Greg Lestrade and sent him a text.

_Mycroft needs you. – A_

_He's ill and he won't listen to me.- A_

_What makes you think he'll listen to me? – GL._

_He misses you. It's written all over him. He'll listen to you if it means getting to see you.– A._

_Are you sure? He said he wants some time away from me. Surely I'll only make things worse if I start to interfere. –GL._

_Believe me when I say I don't think you could make things any worse. – A._

_That bad, huh? – GL._

_I'd day this is one down from a code red Holmesian situation. –A._

_Oh dear lord. Almost a code red situation? What's wrong from him.? – GL._

_Nothing too serious but if he doesn't rest soon that may well change. – A._

_Being stubborn as always? – GL._

_Yes. Even when sick he still remains the most stubborn man I know. – A._

_I imagine he's even worse when he's sick. – GL._

_You imagine correctly. Now, will you come? – A._

_Yes, but I'm not at all happy about this. Will you send a car to my flat for me? –GL._

_I'm not too happy with the situation ever, inspector. But he seems to listen to you and someone needs to make sure he takes things easy, at least for a couple of days. – A._

_There's a car already situated outside your flat.-A._

_Thanks. Be there soon to pick up Mycroft and march his sorry ass back to bed.- GL._

_Good luck with that. I've already tried various different methods of doing so.- A._

_Ah, Anthea. I have my secret ways. – GL._

_I'll try not to shudder at what you've just implied. –A._

_I'm not sure what you mean. Get your mind out of the gutter. – GL._

_Shut up and get into the car, inspector. Or I'll take drastic measures to ensure your arrival here. – A._

Greg smiled slightly at the last text and shook his head, pocketing his phone. He and Anthea were basically the 'rescue Mycroft from himself' team. Mycroft was far too proud to admit when he needed help and Greg imagined that with illness or physical pain his pride only grew. It was a tough job, making sure Mycroft didn't fall, and if he did catching him before the damage was too severe.

He shrugged on his jacket and sighed softly. He was really unsure of if he was doing the right thing. Mycroft had requested some alone time. Greg only saw that as fair. He had sprung a rather shocking thing upon him after all. It couldn't be easy to accept the existence of mermen let alone accept the fact you're dating one. Lord knows what was going in Mycroft's mind now. But it was the gentle tug of his heart strings making him want to comfort Mycroft. Greg as usual listened to his heart, not his brain. He hadn't listened to his brain in a long time (well, since entering a relationship with Mycroft actually)

He trudged outside and sure enough a sleek , familiar black car awaited him. He took a deep breath. It was going to be a long day."Well, here goes nothing." He slid into the back of the car and spent the whole journey with his face pressed up against the glass, trying to will his nerves away at the thought of seeing Mycroft so soon after 'going on a break.'

When Greg arrived Anthea was there to greet him, her face contorted in a grimace that told him all he needed to know. He nodded and stepped into the large manor house, Anthea mouthing "Good luck." As he passed her. From the loud crash and bang that clamoured out from Mycroft's room he could tell that he'd be needing it.

In that moment he forgot he forgot his worries about him and Mycroft being on a 'break' and of the fact that he was probably the last face Mycroft wanted to see right now. He just ran, his heart hammering in his chest. He burst through the door and laughed in relief at the sight of Mycroft sprawled out on the floor, groaning softly. It wasn't too serious then.

"I'm glad that my current situation is so incredibly funny to you, Gregory."

Greg chuckled and moved over to Mycroft. "Sorry, Myc. I just haven't seen ya like this before." He apologized softly, scooping Mycroft up into his arms.

"Like what?" Mycroft grumbled grumpily into Greg's shirt.

"Like…I dunno…but it's a cute look on you, Myc." Greg smiled gently at the man he was cradling in his arms. He pushed back a stray lock sticking to Mycroft's sweaty forehead and frowned, his smile fading slightly. "You're hot." He noted, concern dripping in his voice.

"First I'm cute, then I'm hot? Do make your mind up, Gregory." Mycroft sighed in exasperation.

"No, Myc. I meant that you're hot as in you're burning up." Greg's frown deepened in worry.

"Really? Mycroft cocked one eyebrow, shivering almost painfully so. "I feel freezing. I was just about to ask Anthea to turn on the centeral heating. No idea how I ended up on the floor. It jumped up at me. Perhaps I need someone to look at that. We can't have jumping floors, can we?" Mycroft was talking absolute gibberish now. If it wasn't for the heat emitting from Mycroft then Greg would have laughed at how adorably out of sorts he was. As it turned out he wasn't laughing in the slightest.

Greg pressed his hand a little harder against Mycroft's head and sighed. "Nope. You're boiling, Myc. I'm gonna run you a bath."

"Are you sure that's quite wise?" Mycroft asked him warily. "After what water … does to you?"

Greg sighed sadly. So Mycroft hadn't wrapped his head around the fact he was a merman then? "I'll be careful." He assured Mycroft, his voice sinking in fatigue. He padded into the en suite bathroom. Mycroft grunted and his face creased in deep thought. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn't quite bring himself to do so. Greg merely ignored him, knowing that it was both incredibly dangerous and incredibly stupid to interrupt Mycroft whilst he was thinking. He very carefully set about running an ice cold bath, being ultra-careful about avoiding getting water on his skin . He slowly lowered the feverish man into the water.

"Gah!" Mycroft cried out sharply and kicked up a fuss as his temperature tried to right itself.

Greg closed his eyes as he felt a water droplet glide over his skin. He felt like he was going to cry , his eyelids suddenly the only barrier holding back his tears.

"Gregory, get into the bath."

Greg didn't have to think twice about it. He dove into the bath and landed in it in the nick of time, his tail sprouting out behind him, his clothes ripping to shreds. He instantly began sobbing. He wasn't quite sure why. He wasn't the one who was sick. He should have been able to keep his emotions under control. But nope. It would appear that he was sobbing thick and ugly tears just like a child and shaking with giant tremors.

He jumped at the sound of Mycroft calling his name softly and the sudden arm wrapping around his waist. He glanced up at Mycroft, his eyes red, puffy and filled to the brim with raw tears. Mycroft pecked Greg on the lips… Ok, he hadn't seen that one coming.

"Shh, Gregory. It's ok. Really it is." Mycroft's were supposed to be comforting but they only made him sob harder.

"No! No, it's not ok!" He was aware of how pathetic and childish he sounded but right now he didn't care. "I can't help the way I am! I'm not human, so what?! I still have a heart! I still love you!Qhat we have together doesn't mean any less! And So what I've got a bloody fish tail! I love your body the way it is! Why should I get different treatment from you?!"

"You're right, Gregory." Mycroft breathed, tugging Greg closer and nuzzling him, trying to get him to calm down. "It's no different. You love my body and I love yours."

"No you don't." Greg mumbled weakly. "How could you ever love my body. It's inhuman."

"Humanity isn't based on your appearance, gender, or personality. It is the heart that you carry and the memories that you leave behind." Mycroft reached out and gently brushed his fingertips against Greg's scales.

Greg felt a shiver wrapping its way around his spine and travelling through his whole body. His heart slowed down inside of his chest and a deep sound was emitted from the very back of his throat. "And what sort of memories am I leaving behind so far?" He asked, his voice a low whisper.

"The best, Gregory. The very best."

Greg laughed, mostly out of relief. He pulled himself up into a more comfortable position and brushed a thumb along Mycroft's slightly stubbly cheek. "You feel a little cooler. Want to finish up here and cuddle for a little while – at least if you really are ok with what and who I am now?"

Mycroft nodded and pecked Greg on the lips gently. "I'm very ok with this, Gregory. It's still strange... but in a most spectacular and marvellous way." Greg couldn't help but grin as he pulled the plug from the bath, the bath water draining away with a soft gurgling sound. He grabbed a towel from the side of the bath and began to gently rub away the water from his tail. "May I?"

Greg looked up, a little surprised by the sight of Mycroft holding out a hand for the towel. His eyebrows knitted together and he shrugged. "Sure, if you like." He handed the towel over, still quite puzzled by Mycroft's sudden change of heart.

Mycroft smiled and began to gingerly rub along the long, and astounding tail. "Tell me if I hurt you at all."

"Not hurting me…" Greg choked out, his voice hoarse and thick with arousal. "You're doing a bloody marvelous job."

Mycroft just made a brief chortling sound in reply. He moved up and down Greg's tail methodically till it was completely dry before dabbing at his torso till every last droplet of water was wiped away. At some point in the process Greg had closed his eyes, his breathing unsteady and irregular. He only opened them when he became aware of his tail splitting and reshaping itself into milky pink limbs once more. "Thank you." He whispered softly.

"You're very welcome, Gregory." Mycroft said, his eyes staring down at Greg's legs in wonderment.

"Come on you. We've got to get you to bed to sleep your fever off." Greg gradually moved his legs and moved to scoop his love up into his arms, stepping out of the bathtub. He padded to the bed and pulled back the covers, placing Mycroft on the mattress gently. He crawled underneath the covers and pulled Mycroft flush against him, kissing him light on top of his head. "Good night, Myc."

"Goodnight, Gregory."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

* * *

A few weeks had passed since Mycroft's bout of illness. Greg and Mycroft were swimming side by side, Greg's tail glimmering under the bright light from the sun shining down upon it. "You know, Gregory." Mycroft whispered softly, turning to face Greg. "You are the best thing that has ever happened to me."

Greg grasped Mycroft's wrist and turned it in his palm, his fingertips tracing over the faded scars from what felt like a life time ago. "And you, Mycroft Holmes, are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I never want to let you out of my sight."

"That can be arranged." A sly smile pulled at Mycroft's lips.

"What do you mean?" Greg blinked in confusion.

"We could – make our relationship a little more permanent."

Greg blinked again, his mouth opening slightly in a stunned silence. He swallowed thickly and forced himself to speak. "Are you asking me what I think you're asking me?" The almost dangerous glint in Mycroft's eyes told Greg that he was indeed asking him the 'big' question.

Mycroft's eyebrows quirked upwards. "What do you say? Gregory Lestrade will you do me the honor of being my husband?"

"Yes." Greg breathed softly, his whisper barely audible. "Yes." He repeated, a little louder this time, the truth of what he'd just said yes to finally sinking in. "God yes!" He pulled Mycroft against him, sealing their lips together in a tender kiss as the sun sank beneath the foamy waves.

* * *

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